Strictly Business (5 page)

He admitted the idea of a personal relationship with Jess was exciting. More than exciting. It could easily become an obsession. His night had been haunted by the apparition of her, clad in a sexy slip … and then nothing. She had something about her, something that drew him to her. He wanted her, wanted to feel her beneath him.…

He thought of her two employees. Where the hell had she found them? Duane and Roger were young, well-built, handsome blonds. They would put his brother to shame for size and looks. He had disliked them on sight, and liked even less the easy smiles they exchanged with Jess. He told himself they were probably idiots, but he knew the thought of her working closely with them had spurred him to give her a hard time about a tennis court he’d never intended to build in the first place. Maybe he’d labeled the wrong people idiots.

He had to stop acting like an adolescent boy desperate to get a girl’s attention. He was a man.

The door to the trailer suddenly swung open. He glanced up to find Jess standing on the threshold.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I forgot my copy of the contract,” she said.

He held it out. She stepped forward to take it from him and her fingers accidentally touched his.

She glanced up at him, her eyes wide with emotion.

He stared at her, watching the faintest of blushes color her cheeks.

Her gaze focused on his mouth.

“Hell,” he muttered.

“Damn,” she whispered.

He pulled her to him and settled his lips firmly on hers.

His kiss was that of a man who knew what made the heart race and the blood throb. It seduced with pleasure, and yet left her wanting more—much more.

For a long moment, Jess instinctively responded to the wildfire his mouth created. Then she realized what she was doing, and scrambled out of his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, horrified by her lack of control. “That was … it wasn’t proper.”

“I will admit,” Nick said, “that it was inevitable.”

No, she thought. It was impossible. She lifted her chin. “It won’t happen again.”

The word “liar” screamed across her brain. She ignored it.

She picked up her copy of the contract. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

She turned around and walked out of the trailer.

The next morning, Jess jammed her sun hat on
and paced off the outer border of the front garden. A stream of measuring tape followed behind her.

“Stake it here, Duane,” she called out. She stuffed her gloves in a pocket and wrote the final footage on her sketchbook. She smiled. The area was even more than she’d thought. She knew she could do a lot with it. She turned around to tell Duane to let go of the other end of the tape, but the words died in her throat.

Nick was striding across the drive toward the office trailer.

Swallowing, Jess whipped back around and yelled, “I think I’ll go in back and measure out the terrace.”

Trying to keep her composure, she walked as sedately as possible to the side of the large farmhouse. When she figured she was out of sight of the front, she finished the distance with a speed an Olympic sprinter would have admired.

Once she turned the back corner, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief and berated herself at the same time. She knew running like that had been an act of self-preservation. She’d bumped into Nick once earlier today, and after good mornings had been exchanged, she had found herself staring at his mouth. Years of self-control had been wiped away with one kiss.

The truth was, the kiss had stirred something inside her, something long dormant. In spite of all her efforts to blank it out, her brain had insisted on replaying the incident again and again. She’d come out of several daydreams to find her fingers caressing her lips. She swallowed heavily. She was afraid to be around him. And if she were alone with him …

Oh, Lord
, Jess thought, closing her eyes. He hadn’t fired her for her first lapse of professional behavior, and she was grateful for that. But he’d never tolerate another. And if he did … she dreaded the consequences. She lost her control around this man. She sensed that after she ruined everything, as she always did, she’d suffer more than guilt this time—much more.

Composing herself, Jess opened her eyes, only to see the unwound end of the measuring tape snaking past the side of the house.

“Hell’s bells,” she muttered.

She tiptoed over to the corner and peeked around the side. Sure enough, there was a long trail of bright yellow tape. Fortunately, Duane wasn’t on the other end of it. She must have pulled it right out of his hands when she’d made her escape.

Frantically cranking the little rewinding mechanism, she prayed Duane wouldn’t say anything about it.

A short time later, she discovered she wasn’t quite so lucky.

“Jess wants to know what size you’re planning for the terrace.”

Standing in the model’s kitchen, Nick sourly eyed the bearer of this request. Yesterday’s dislike of Roger had strangely intensified. It was irrational, he thought in disgust. But dammit! The kid looked twice as healthy today.

“Whatever she wants is fine,” he said gruffly.

“Maybe you ought to come outside and talk to her about it,” Roger suggested, smiling.

That was the last thing Nick wanted to do. Being alone with Jess Brannen was like being in heaven and hell at the same time. He would want, need, to taste that incredible mouth again. And if he did, he’d make a total fool of himself.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do in here.” He waved a hand at the half finished oak-and-glass kitchen cabinets. They were a decent excuse. “The outside is her responsibility, so the size of the terrace is her decision. I’ll put in whatever she thinks is best.”

Roger shrugged and disappeared out the Dutch door.

Nick grimaced. While it seemed silly, he knew the best solution to his attraction to Jess Brannen was to avoid her altogether. After his lecture to her about being a professional, he’d been the one to act unprofessionally. And at the first opportunity. Worse, in a moment of vulnerability he’d tried to excuse the kiss as something he had needed to get out of his system.

After she had run out of the trailer, he’d realized the trailer door had been wide open when he kissed her. But when he looked outside, nobody seemed interested in the trailer or its occupants. At least, they had both been spared that embarrassment.

Fortunately, she’d left shortly afterward with her employees, Hulk One and Hulk Two. But out of sight was hardly out of mind, and it had taken all his willpower to suppress the delicious lingering sensations of the kiss for the rest of the day. The night, however, had been a different story.

Just knowing she was on the site was an irresistible temptation. She had made it very clear, too,
that the kiss would not be repeated. And that only made the thought of it even more addicting.

But how, he wondered, could he possibly ignore her, especially with that crazy hat she was wearing? He’d been totally disconcerted earlier by her beautiful face under a hat emblazoned with the logo
Burns Root Rot.
Between that and the bright red gloves she wore, he hadn’t been able to stammer more than a terse “Good morning” to her. One good thing about the hat, he thought. It had saved him from a repeat performance of yesterday.

Still, he told himself, it was best if he had as little physical and visual contact with her as possible. Convincing himself to follow through on that, however, was another matter.

She’d just better keep wearing that hat.

During lunch, Jess finally gave in to a curiosity that had niggled at her since she’d first seen the model house. When lunch break was called, everyone left the house, including Nick. If she wanted a look at the inside—and she did—now was her chance.

As she approached the door, she gripped her portfolio more tightly and told herself she needed to see the interior, just to make sure they hadn’t done something outlandishly modern with it. She hoped not. She’d once been asked to landscape a beautiful eighteenth-century Georgian brick home in West Chester, only to discover the owners had had the inside completely redone in ultramodern. She shuddered, remembering the low Danish settees and the horrible geometric mobile hanging from the out-of-place
cathedral ceiling. She’d refused the job on the spot.

“What a desecration that was,” she muttered.

Slipping inside, she smiled with pleasure at the sight of the long front hall. The pristine white plaster walls were interspersed at regular intervals with heavy dark timbers. Smaller timbers were angled between the larger ones as if bracing the walls. Halfway down the hall a narrow staircase led to the upper floor, and doors closed off each of the rooms from the hall. The plywood subflooring had yet to be covered.

A stone floor would make the hall perfect, she instantly decided. If it were her home, she’d decorate the hall with little tables—two, maybe three—and have vases of fresh flowers sitting atop them. Several Rubens prints hanging from the walls would give it that final old-world touch.

As she began to explore the rest of the downstairs, she was delighted with what she saw. Although the walls were bare of any covering and the floors hadn’t been finished, she could easily envision each room done in an elegant sparseness, giving the impression of graciousness and space. Clutter would be a disaster. Nick had done so well with the house that it would look no different if it were set next to a real four-hundred-year-old Elizabethan manor in the Cotswolds.

When she came upon a tiny powder room hidden behind the stairs, she couldn’t help grinning as she stepped inside. It reminded her of a water closet she’d seen on a tour of Windsor Castle in England. Even this was perfect.

A cough startled her, and she whirled around to
discover Nick standing on the threshold. His gaze bore into hers, and she was all too aware that she was alone in the house with him. So much for trying to avoid him, she thought frantically.

“Is the plumbing connected?” she asked.

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll test it anyway.”

She shut the door in his face. Leaning weakly against the wood, she breathed a sign of relief. To her surprise, a burst of genuine laughter came from the other side. It was the first time she’d ever heard Nick Mikaris laugh, and she liked the sound of it.

“How’s the plumbing?” he asked, still laughing.

She grinned, relaxing now that there was a stout barrier of wood between them. “Fine, just fine. And it’s so silent, too.”

“I aim to please. Are you pleased, Jess?”

She decided she’d only imagined a sexy drawl in his tone. “Very.”

“Good. Do you always hang around in bathrooms?”

“They’re nice little rooms. Why don’t you try one of the other ones in the house? I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“No, thanks. I have this thing about hanging around just outside closed bathroom doors.”

“I think we’re sick people, Nick.”

“I prefer depraved. Would you care for a
Reader’s Digest
? I believe that’s required reading for bathrooms.”

“Thank you, but no.” What she really needed was the Sunday edition of
The New York Times.
That took forever to read, and she had a feeling she was going to be in here forever.

“Ah … Nick?”

“Yes?”

“Could you go away?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re missing lunch.”

“I need to lose a few pounds.”

“I think I hear the phone ringing in the office trailer.”

“The answering machine will pick it up. Are you planning to come out anytime in the near future?”

“Why? Do you need to use the facilities?”

He started laughing again. Jess realized it wasn’t the sound she liked. It was him. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to like him. Not that. Please, not that.

“You’re not coming out, are you?”

“I told you I like bathrooms. Just pass a sandwich under the door every so often and I’ll be fine. I prefer tuna with lettuce and tomato.”

There was no answer from the other side.

“Nick?” she asked, frowning at the unexpected silence. She set her portfolio down next to the vanity.

“Nick? Nick?”

When she still didn’t receive an answer, she pressed her ear to the door. She didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t there. After another minute, she found enough courage to crack open the door and peek outside.

He was gone.

“Well, hell,” she muttered, opening the door wider and stepping out into the empty hall. She wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or angry for his sudden disappearance.

She chuckled as she remembered her last remark. Maybe he’d gone to get her a sandwich. Then she sighed.

She’d forgotten to tell him she liked her tuna on rye.

Nick riffled through the blueprints spread out on the butcher-block kitchen counter and pulled one from the bottom.

“This is it, Sam,” he said, handing it to his foreman.

“Thanks.”

Once Sam left, Nick hurried back to the powder room. To his disappointment, the door was wide open and the room was empty.

Damn
, he thought. While Jess had been saying something about slipping a sandwich under the door, Sam had signaled him from the kitchen end of the hall. He hadn’t wanted his foreman to know he and Jess had been talking through a closed bathroom door, so he’d simply slipped away quietly. Although he had only been gone a short time, it had obviously been long enough for her to come out.

She was something, he thought, smiling as he continued down the hall to the stairs. She had shut that bathroom door in his face with great dignity, and he hadn’t been able to resist teasing her while she was inside. In fact, he’d been enjoying himself so much that he’d resented Sam’s interruption.

But it was probably just as well. The lunch break was almost over and very shortly the men would be back inside the house. And he’d better check on the progress of the upstairs rooms before they started. He’d noticed earlier that the sky was starting to cloud over, and although the weather report called for rain in the evening, he had a feeling it would
start a good deal sooner than that. If it did, he hoped he had enough inside work for all the men. Otherwise they’d get the rest of the day off with pay. He was already cutting it too close to the budget as it was.